


Inconvenient Attachment

by Selly87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Challenge Response, Lawyer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Slow Build, Three Word Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 10:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selly87/pseuds/Selly87
Summary: In which Draco aids Harry to rid himself of an inconvenient attachment and Harry impresses with his language skills, or not.





	1. Effervescent

**Author's Note:**

> When I randomly asked my good friend and fellow Drarry lover for three words, she gave me "effervescent, sanctimonious and superfluous". My first response was "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?!" but after brief contemplation I came up with this interesting piece of warped imagination.

“I need a divorce.”

The words were out of Potter’s mouth long before Draco had the chance to turn around and face his ten o’clock appointment, who’d all but barged into his office the moment Draco had called ‘ _come in_ ’. Poised, but deep-down teetering on the brink of pure exasperation, Draco slowly turned to face Potter, who had, uninvitedly thrown himself into the armchair in front of Draco’ large mahogany desk and was now looking at him with an expectant expression on his face.

Slowly, with a definite air of grace and elegance, Draco crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself to thoroughly look at his client. Potter was dressed in what could only be described as rags, for clothes they were most definitely not. His jeans were torn at the knees and while Draco was highly aware that it was supposedly some sort of ridiculous fashion statement, he also knew Potter well enough to know the man knew next to nothing about fashion.

His jumper looked several sizes too big and his worn-down trainers appeared to have been purchased some time in the last century, or possibly even before that. Potter’s hair was, of course, in complete disarray and longer than it had any legal right to be. On the bright side, the messy mane Potter called hair, obscured his ugly lightning bolt-shaped scar. Overall, he looked like a teenager not a year out of Hogwarts rather than the young man in his late twenties that he was supposed to be. He most definitely looked nothing like Draco imagined the Head of the Auror Department should look like.

At that point, Draco made a mental note to fire his secretary immediately after Potter had left. She’d of course, wisely, sought his permission before scheduling Potter’s appointment but he’d rather thought she would have had the sense to inform Potter that there was a dress code to uphold when one sought a meeting with a top-class solicitor. Jeans and a hoodie were appropriate attire for… If Draco was honest he didn’t know what they were appropriate attire for, but his wand hand itched as he indulged in a momentary flight of fancy and pictured banishing Potter’s clothes straight into his fireplace.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawp at me, or are you actually going to say something, Malfoy?” Potter’s question sobered Draco up instantly and with a pointed glare he sunk into his oversized leather chair and leant back.

“Married life not all it’s cracked up to be, Potter?” He drawled, allowing a devilish smirk to play around his lips. Usually his clients didn’t state their intentions quite as bluntly as Potter had done upon entering his office, but then again Potter was usually blunt and straight to the point, without the least bit of shame. How he was still married five years on was a complete mystery to Draco. Then again, Ginevra Weasley was a professional Quidditch player and most likely spent the majority of her time either at games or practices. By choice or to avoid Potter? Draco couldn’t make up his mind about that.

“If you must know, Malfoy, no.” Potter certainly didn’t beat around the bush, that much was for sure. “Can you help me?” His next question was rather unexpected and Draco considered his options for a moment.

“I’m not the only lawyer in town…” It wasn’t an outright rejection, more of an indirect question on Draco’s part. He was curious. _Wentworth, Rowan & Malfoy_ was without the shadow of a doubt the best law firm in England, regularly taking on high profile cases in front of the Wizengamot and the also the Muggle High Court of Justice, but any lawyer could handle simple divorce proceedings. Granted, most divorce cases turned ugly quickly, but they still didn’t require a costly lawyer’s undivided attention.

“No, but apparently you’re the best, if your effervescent reputation precedes you accurately. Look, Malfoy, I’m not going to plead, but I’d like to walk away from this with my prick still fully functional and, if at all possible, without a media shitstorm of epic proportions that will impact my ability to perform my duties as Head Auror. I am therefore willing to put up with you and your unreasonably excessive legal fees.”

“If you’re going to use big words, Potter, at least use them right. There’s no such thing as an _effervescent_ reputation, _glowing_ reputation, yes sure, but not that.” Draco couldn’t help but reprimand Potter for his lack of handle of the English language but wisely didn’t make any other snarky remarks. Instead he reached for his black notebook with a silver engraving of the Malfoy crest on its front cover and a quill. “It’s not wise to insult your lawyer, Potter, _exorbitant_ being the word you’re looking for here, legal fees or not.” He said calmly and with an amused smirk. Trust Potter to try and impress him in some way or another and of course failing miserably. Flicking to an empty page in his diary, he dipped his quill in black ink and noted the date atop the page. “Why exactly do you want a divorce?”

“I’m gay.” This time Draco didn’t quite manage to remain unaffected. He’d certainly handled enough divorce cases to expect just about anything, ranging from ludicrous accusations to flat-out lies, but he most definitely hadn’t expected Harry Potter, of all people, to cite ‘ _gay_ ’ as grounds for divorce.

“Excuse me?” He asked, vanishing an ink stain from his notepad with the casual flick of his wand.

“You _heard_ me, Malfoy.”


	2. Sanctimonious

“Sanctimonious dipshits! How fucking dare they paint themselves holier as hell, making me look like I sleep around on a daily basis!” Draco looked up from his paperwork with a vexed expression on his face he watched in horror as Potter, today dressed in a pair of faded, dark blue jeans without holes – _which was only marginally better than his usual attire_ – and an oversized red t-shirt, threw himself into the armchair in front of Draco’s desk, just like he always did when he entered Draco’s office, announced or unannounced.

“I thought I made my stance on your bursting into my office whenever it takes your blooming fancy abundantly clear?” Draco said, sounding strained. It was taking him every ounce of self-control not to draw his wand and hex Potter into oblivion. Potter’s divorce case was taking longer than he’d expected it to take and his constant presence was slowly but surely wearing Draco down. Most days it felt like he was doing nothing else but trying to come up with a composed way to push Potter’s divorce through and he’d found himself handing two of his other cases off to a junior partner in the firm, something he’d never done before.

“And you said you’d keep this out of the press.” Potter snapped, flinging a copy of the Daily Prophet onto Draco’s desk. “I did not cheat on her. I’ve never even had a boyfriend before. I just want out of the marriage, that’s all.”

Draco picked up the rag – _for in his eyes that was exactly what the Daily Prophet was_ – and took a casual glance at the headline and Potter’s picture beneath it. With a shrug he then folded it carefully and put it aside. Leaning back in his chair, Draco crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Potter with an icy glare. “I will not have you insinuate that I go behind my client’s back and get the press to print nasty rumours in the papers, Potter. You may be above turning this into a public mud-slinging match, but clearly, your wife’s lawyer, and by extension your still-wife, is not. Being mentioned in the media, even in the context of a scandal or controversy, is always beneficial because it brings publicity. Your wife is as much in the public eye as you are and her lawyer clearly knows how to milk it.”  
  
“Ginny wouldn’t…” The look of pure desperation was plainly evident on Potter’s face and Draco had to remind himself not to let it affect him. He was Potter’s lawyer and that was all there was to their relationship. It was a strictly professional one and if Potter was losing the plot over a few public digs from his hopefully soon-to-be ex-wife’s vicious bitch of a lawyer, then he’d better find a friend’s shoulder to cry on and fast. Comforting distraught clients was not part of Draco’s job description. He’d never made an exception before and he didn’t intend to do so now. Except, the next words that came out of his mouth, which were inexplicably soft, entirely betrayed him.

“Potter. Never underestimate a woman scorned.” Uncrossing his arms, Draco casually rested them on top of his desk and aimlessly toyed with his quill. “Honestly, Potter, and this is not the most ethical legal advice I’ve ever given, your best bet to actually get out of this marriage sooner rather than later, is to own up, say you cheated and pay her the alimony she wants.”

“But I didn’t cheat!” Potter looked downright affronted and Draco sighed.

“I know that.”

“And I’m not going to cheat! What utter idiocy. If that’s the only way you can see me getting out of this marriage, I’m firing you right now, Malfoy!”

Somewhat taken aback by Potter’s sudden outburst, Draco took a moment to compose himself. He was tempted to make a rather snarky comment about Potter’s very obvious lack of manners and his inability to control his emotions but was smart enough to keep his mouth firmly shut. There was a time and place for snide remarks and it wasn’t now.

“Malfoy, I as much as it pains me to say this, but I beg you, get me out of this marriage before I lose the fucking plot. This– _Potter waved at the newspaper_ –this is not the woman I married. I don’t know who she is, but this is not Ginny. The Ginny I know would never do this to me.”

Draco sighed and rubbing his temples, he tried to fend off a headache from hell that threatened to descent over him. “How would you feel about mediation?” He eventually asked. “I don’t see it going any good, but it definitely can’t make things worse, at least I hope so. Maybe getting the two of you in the same room to talk may lead to the desired result. I have my doubts, but I’m opposed to leaving even the least likely of things untried.”

“Anything.”

“Alright, let me make some arrangements. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Potter, I do have some paperwork to finish and a meeting with another client in half an hour.”

“I’m leaving.”


	3. Superfluous

Draco casually braced himself on the window sill behind him and leant back, taking in the sight in front of him. The man, who was sat in the armchair across from his desk, certainly looked like Potter, but was a much more refined version of the man he’d become rather intimately acquainted with over the past eighteen months.

This Potter was dressed in a tight pair of black jeans that left absolutely nothing to the imagination and a pair of expensive-looking beige suede ankle boots. His white dress shirt was casually rolled up to his elbow with the top two buttons undone and the bottom end of the shirt hanging over the top of his jeans at just the right proportions. Potter’s hair, while still a mess, had been trimmed to a decent length and he’d finally invested in a pair of fitted glasses without that horrible all-around black rim. They were actually almost invisible and suited Potter perfectly.

“Certifiably gay.” Draco mused, not even in the slightest horrified that he’d said that out loud. “Quite sparkling too.”

“Finally, a bachelor again. And I think the word you’re looking for is _effervescent_.” Potter grinned mischievously.

There was no trace of the weary, exhausted-looking man with an explosive temper, he’d turned into during the divorce proceedings, Draco noted. No, this Harry Potter, looked positively radiant, healthy, full of life and ready to take on the world. _Effervescent_ , the word was indeed entirely appropriate. Repeated mediation hadn’t granted him a divorce but Draco had, through sheer stubbornness and a few rather cunning legal moves, thoroughly worn down his opponent and eventually negotiated a pretty fair divorce agreement between Harry Potter and his now former wife. He was well and truly free and legally allowed to date all the men he pleased, without any fear of repercussions.

“How are you planning to celebrate your newfound freedom?”

“Why, by taking you to dinner of course.” Potter smirked and Draco instantly straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I am not in the habit of socialising with my clients, Potter.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from having dinner with me before. Besides, I’m not your client anymore.” Potter countered flippantly and Draco sighed, idly wondering whether the suggestions he’d made about Potter’s appearance, not so long ago, had been ill-advised after all.

“Those were casual meetings, a change of scenery if you so wish.” Draco paused, searching Potter’s face for… He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but, much to his dismay, the only discernible expression on Potter’s face was iron-clad determination. “Potter, if I’ve have given you any inclination to believe that I have a personal interest in developing a romantic relationship with you, I apologise, this was not my intention.”

“Oh, cut the superfluous crap, Malfoy. It’s a dinner, I’m not proposing that we shag right there on your desk.”

Draco coughed, trying to keep a flush of colour out of his face. “Must you be so blunt all the bloody time?”

“Must you be so stuck up all the bloody time?” Potter answered his question with a question of his own and rising to his feet he shot him a challenging look. “What’s it gonna be, Draco? You coming for dinner with me or you choosing to go hungry?”

Holding Potter’s gaze for the longest time, Draco remained silent, then against his better judgement, uncrossed his arms and reached for his robes. “Fine. One dinner.”

“We’ll see.”

**The End**


End file.
